Mrs. Flinger: A work in progress

UPDATE TO Mrs. Flinger October 16, 2015

Because the Universe has a wicked sense of humor, after this delcaration, my blog threw up all over my last upgrade.

So I'm starting over using Craft. Turning 40 and kid entering Jr High next year, sometimes it's just time for a change. These archives will still exist in the way the last child goes off to college and their room is the same for 20 years,
but it's just time to move forward.

When our stories merge and I remember that blogging is not futile. Jan 22, 2011

“WHY is Mommy wearing her scarf and coat and shoes? WHY?!” The question comes from my small man wrestling on the couch with his dad. It’s one of his favorite games to play. “Wrestle with me, Daddy!” He’s as joyful as he gets, rumbling around dictating points and I wins and no, that’s a tie. As happy as he gets so long as we’re all there, together, in the room. “Mommy is going to go finish up some work, Buddy.” The answer send him screaming to the kitchen. “NO! I WANNA GO WIFF YOU! NO! I WANNA GO, TOO!”

It’s been weeks now that I’ve kept this schedule, working while the children sleep, on weekends, after my other job. I’ve explained to the children that sometimes you have to work a lot. It’s OK. It’s not forever. Right now, we NEED Mommy to work. And I LIKE my work. I don’t mind diving in to code on a Saturday morning sipping coffee and watching cars whiz by the window as people do their own weekends. I’m OK with this.

My son, he is not.

I sneak in moments while he is home sick with me I take ten minutes to play race car. I use a break to sit and eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with him. I rub his back while he goes down for a nap and I’m there as he opens his eyes three hours later oblivious to the tasks I’ve completed in that interval.

I emailed Amanda this question. “Just logging in [to work] as Buddy is having such a hard time with me not being around him. Do you think that’s normal?” We are so similar in our work. Hell, we work TOGETHER and I’m sending gratitude for these coding jobs and she’s sending gratitude for my working on them. It’s a wonderful system. I appreciate getting the work and she appreciates the work getting done. In between we share our struggles as working moms with little people, goals we know we’d have if we didn’t work and reassurances that we’re not alone. No, no, I just had a melt down yesterday. And oh, yes, good, go work out. Balance. Support. Yes.

I pondered the futility of blogging just this morning. Ironically, I contemplate not blogging nearly always around upcoming blog conferences. I begin to wonder what the point is, everyone is so determined to make money on their own words and voice and I do not. I start thinking there is not room for ONE MORE THING as I pull myself away from my clinging preschooler. And then I read Amanda.

Her entry, “Not this minute” unglued me. THIS. Yes. This. While formulating my reply, clarity as shiny as crystal formed. I do not favor my son. I have patience with his clinging that I did not have with my daughter. I do not mind being the only person who can kiss his booboo and the only one who he wants to lay him down in bed. I don’t mind that I am the center of his world, no. While my daughter was never a snuggler, so independent and pushing pushing to just go, walk, run, dance. She’s as lovely as flowers and generous with her affection but she is independent, now wanting her own space and offering to help her brother get his teeth brushed or grab a class of milk. I see how the change happened, in only a year or two from needing to being. It is because of this knowledge that I cling to my son’s dependance as much as he clings to me.

This will fade, change, mature. He will push me away one day and the thought wets my cheeks with salty tears almost immediately. My daughter will have kisses from boys and dance with other people and I barely know that reality. Nor do I want to.

These thoughts, swirling in a confusing pensive of work, bills, todo lists, unable to form actual words finally make sense as I read this. It’s not just the words but the yes, ohmygod yes, I understand, I know, I am. Suddenly blogging is not futile at all. It is what my life finds security in: Friendships, understanding, sometimes clarity and knowledge.

One day my children will not beg for my attention, for my immediate participation. On that day I will look at this entry, I will re-read Amanda, I will call her and we will laugh and cry simultaneously because yes, remember that? Yes.

Why Three Year Olds Don’t Blog Jan 20, 2011

“Actually, I don’t wear boobies right now because I’m a little kid. You wear boobies because you’re a mommy. When I grow up and are a Mommy I will wear boobies, too, right? And OH LOOK my race cars just crashed that was funny. Whoever gets to the side of the closet first wines. Are you still getting dressed? Oh, you’re wearing a red shirt like I am! Look I’m wearing red, too! Did you see? Now can you see? I’m wearing red, too! SEE? IT IS RED? DID YOU SEE IT? RED. RED. Oh, can we do pizza tonight. Now can you play race cars with me? Why are you still getting dressed. It takes FOR EVER TO GET DRESSED, hu. Why are you brushing your hair? I brush my hair, too. See? Now can we do race cars?”

My Mind Enema Jan 10, 2011

“Um, do you have sage?” I ask at Whole Foods. It seems logical that if one would need something to cleanse spirits, Whole Foods would have it.

You know: Hippies and all that.

“You mean for burning?” I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about. I think you burn it. I’m not sure what I’m looking for but I’ve been told by at least four people to try a sage cleanse for our house so this year will be infinitely better than the last. Sage cleansing. I couldn’t even bother to look it up before I go marching in to Whole Foods to buy it.

“Here you go,” says the thin, purposefully unkempt girl working at the Yuppy-Hippie-Overpriced-Grocery-Store. She leaves and I’m faced with a decision; two small sage sticks or one large stick? “We need all the cleansing possible,” I mutter and grab the biggest sage stick I can find.

It sounds cheesy, and it is, I’m sure. Sage cleansing our house? As if I believed in spirits and karma and life forces and such. Bah.

Except, ..... what if?

Mr. Flinger and I decided to try our very own Mind Enema this year. After two coincidental clicks pointed us to The Secret, the documentary, we watched with small cynicism and large wonder. “Well isn’t THAT ridiculous,” Mr. Flinger says at the close. “But, what the hell, right?”

Right. This is how we embrace our future. “What the hell!”

What the hell indeed.

So going forward, decided to think only positive thoughts. “Think about what you WANT not what you DO NOT want.” This is my mantra.

“I will.. I am.. I shall… I have…” Not “I don’t.. I won’t… I refuse… I hope… I fear…”

It’s such a subtle adjustment, such a tiny switch. The answers come quickly and quietly.

“I miss Yoga. I will find a new Yoga studio,” I said during Kick Boxing a month ago. Two days ago a new friend informs me of the new Power Yoga studio down the street. It’s amazing. It’s perfect. My new friend and I hit it off on yet another level and I proudly add her to the list of people I’m thankful for.

The list is growing with my appreciation and joy.

“The Condo will close.” I say it with confidence. I do not jinx it. I am not afraid to say it with pride. The Condo Will Close. The home we have been selling for nearly a year is ready to go to new hands. The home we brought our baby boy home to is ready for a new family. The home we first knew here so far from our friends, became a place of familiarity, friendly playdates, many holidays. It now goes to a new set of memories and we let it go. Friday: The Condo Will Close.

We celebrate.

The list goes on and on. We say things with confidence and power and love. We declare our lives as worthy and joyful. We tell our family they are loved and strong and beautiful. We work together, actively making goals reality.

“You’re working so much.” “You’re always working.” “It sucks you have to work so much.” I’ve heard this from no less than 18 people in the past month. I’m working, working a lot. I’m fulfilling my full time job and a part time freelancer job on top of being a mother and a woman who strives to work out and find harmony. Harmony in the midst of chaos and deadlines and bills. Harmony and Joy.

I *am* working too much but I am thankful for it. Working too much right now is the appropriate solution. It’s not forever, I tell my children. Mommy has to work a lot right now because we need it. Right now I am thankful to have venues to bring in money, to get our family in a new situation, to grow beyond the last year of turmoil. However much the world tries to get us down, I am thankful for the opportunity to prosper.

We are prospering. In spite of all the financial heart-ache, emotional frustrations, negative energy surrounding us: We. Are. Prospering.

I went for a run today. I looked up as the clouds parted for an entire twenty minutes. The sun spoke down to my skin with kisses and warmth. Joy. Happiness. Heaven.

How are we doing, you ask? We are fine. We are. Perfectly. Fine.

Who you should nominate for teh Bloggies. Jan 10, 2011

This time of year makes my skin itch. Mainly because the heat is always on and the air is so dry, but ALSO because the weblog awards come out about now and everyone gets all weird about it. Everyone says “those are SOOOO 2004.” But let me tell you, I was in them (ok, one) in 2004, and I’m not proud to admit that I buckle under the pressure of a pretend award like the zipper of my jeans do on Thanksgiving.

That doesn’t stop me from nominating you, though.

As “they” say, I hope it truly is just a joy to be nominated because you have been.

In no particular order, I will tell you who to nominate. Not only will you do so (waves hand as if using the force) but you will tell others to do so as well. (waves hand back)

Here, ladies and gentleman (one) is my predication for the final contestants of this year bloggies.

Photo Blog:

Clearly, Chookooloonks is a must. I’ve known Karen since 2004 when she first adopted her daughter, Alex. I love Karen’s spirit and joy and positive nature. I fly to her like a moth to light. Sometimes she even hugs me.

Rachel Divine is another amazing photo blog. She shares tips on how to be great and lets us follow her life in Australia in one blog. Truly worthy of a look for everyone.

Mishi: Secret Agent Mama and Lotus photograph amazing stories and are pure and wonderful as the art they produce. Both are a must to add to your inspired list.

Best Writing

Please, please, read and nominate Amanda Magee at The Wink. She’s profound, well spoken, and brings so much positive light to my day, I seek her out when I feel frustrated or down. She’s truly someone who reminds you, in amazing voice, to be thankful for your life. She’s funny as hell to boot.

You can’t think of writing without thinking about Megan at Velveteen Mind. She’s long winded in a poetic sort of sense. She won’t write daily, but when she does, you’ll sit down to read the entire.thing.

Someone who sort of just sprint in to the blogging scene with confidence and sparkle, for her writing and personality, is Jessica of Mamma’s Gone City. She’s adorable, her children are adorable, and she’s taking New York City by storm. Entertaining and Sassy, Jessica is living the opposite Pioneer Woman as she dives in to city living from her suburban home.

Hey Laura What started this year as well. It’s a wonderful resource for whole foodie types, hippies, family people, and smart people in general. Laura researches everything applicable to every question she receives giving advice on things from amber teething rings to making the best damn soup ever. Go ahead, research on her site, ask her anything you want, and be amazed at the wisdom that flies back at you. No, seriously.

Best Kept Secret

A best kept secret is here in Seattle. Sizzle is a blogger’s blogger. She’s entertaining and thoughtful and engaging. It’s almost like sitting at the coffee table with her. I swear she is talking DIRECTLY TO ME. Not you, no, well, maybe both of us. But her conversational style makes me think I talk to her every day. I wish I did.

The Spohrs are Multiplying is a fabulous journal about Heather and Mike and their new daughter Annabele. We watched in horror as their Maddie passed away and mourned with them as they leaned on the Internet for support. We loved them when they announced their pregnancy and we gave Annabele a high five in utero (ok, maybe that was just me.) Her writing draws us in but her family makes us stay. We love their humanism, we revel in their joy and we hope for their delight.

Parenting

This category is easily the hardest one to narrow down so let me help you here. Lean close and listen carefully ‘cause I’m only gonna say this once. .... Today.

Busy Mom is a long standing blog of awesome. Consistently funny, smart and honest in a down-to-earth way, you can’t go wrong knowing Elizabeth. She’s a strong person with a great family going through the tweens and teens and defining herself as the person between them all. We’ve been there through her parents’ health troubles and watched her youngest grow from busy baby to busy school boy. You’ll love Elizabeth from day one and you’ll keep reading for five years. (If you’re anything like me, that is.)

Lea (ahem) embraced motherhood with more passion than most people I’ve read. We know her as Lea, the girl who is dating Simon, but her blog has grown along with her home. Watching her family take form is part of what makes her a friend. She shares her life of being a working mom and living in California. Her blog is as homey as her personality and I love going there. It’s like walking in to an old friend’s house where she already knows how you take your coffee.

Ok, look, everyone reads Amalah, right? I’m sure you do. But? If you don’t? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. Amy doesn’t really NEED any sort of pimping at all but the thing about Amy is that it’s been, Oh, I dunno, FOREVER, and she continues to be amazing. She’s sort of what mommy blogging was before it was MOMMY BLOGGING OMG. Also? She’s pregnant again and that makes me every sort of happy because she makes adorable babies and we’re done growing human beings in our house. I’ll just snuggle hers. No, that’s not weird or anything.

Honestly, there’s more. But my leg hair has grown about seven inches during the writing of this one post and my children are currently jumping off high things with sharp objects yelling “TARZAN” and I’m pretty sure I was just fired from work because I forgot to show up yesterday. Oh, wait, yesterday was Sunday? Great. I need that job.

Go forth and spread joy, people. Spread the joy, the nominations and if nothing else, recommend a few good reads. We can all use more distractions, if they’re quality ones.

Like the Red Tent but without the tent or ancient rituals Jan 06, 2011

I’ve written about The Red Tent before. I loved this book about womanly camaraderie based in fictional ancient biblical times. It’s the sort of book that makes a lady a feminist. You practically wanna shout to your random sisters-of-the-hood from across the street, “YOU GO HONEY! YOU CAN DO IT! WE FUCKING BLEED ONCE A MONTH AND STILL TACKLE THE WORLD!” Then you high five a million angels and she high fives them back. Lady angels, of course.

Consider this the eloquent transition from The Red Tent and 30Rock to how my friends ended up in a kitchen with our underwear on.

Some good friends of mine decided to do a weight-loss challenge together. A few of us gained a few pounds (cough seven) over the holiday and wanted to get back to our sleek, healthy selves but with some good ol’ competition with money involved. Nothing strengthens friendship like placing money between it.

So we gathered together in the kitchen of my friend’s house with a scale, a camera, and a tape measure. We stripped down to our “summer” selves, bathing suits, small tanks, bare tummies. We measured and weighed and posed.

It was a scene our children watched in both fascination and utter horror. “Our moms have LOST IT,” I overheard one of the three year olds say. A six year old bent down, “You just figured this out?”

We laughed and jiggled and confessed. I noticed how often we would want to cut ourselves down while building the other ones up. Someone would disagree, “oh, no no, you’re fine! You can do it!” and we would write down our stats and continue on, not a single judgement on the face of those in the room.

It was cathartic. We not only shared our insecurities, we showed them to each other, and the other girls? Didn’t wince once.

The first step to healing is being open to your people about where you’re at.

Afterward a friend texted me, “That was fun! Like Acid Rain!” We laughed about it, how insane we were to stand there in the kitchen, six women in our skivvies measuring and jiggling. At the same time, we all agree, it was fun in a way. Healing. Refreshing. Accepting. There’s something about knowing you’re accepted by other people to begin allowing you to accept yourself.

I love those ladies like sisters in a Red Tent. Women who you call to when your life is tough, when you feel fat and frustrated, when you hit financial rock bottom. These are my village of women and we proved to each other this week that there is no place we won’t go together. Even in our underwear.

The Blogroll’s death and resurrection. I guess you can say, my blogroll has a Jesus-ish quality. Jan 02, 2011

I took my blogroll down several versions of design ago. I knew it was outdated. I knew some of my blogger friends moved to facebook only or ditched the online world completely. But I have to confess, I often forget to click and read, even for a minute, without your shiny faces, avatars, logos, whatever, over there smiling at me.

But I’m curious: In 2011, in the age of “THE BLOG IS OUT DATED”, are blogrolls even more dead? If blogs are “mostly dead”? Or, maybe, will the pendulum come swinging back around to the time of friends promoting great writers they’re privileged to bond with and share ideas with?

Or am I the only lazy bastard that needs a stepping point to launch myself in to the world that I love from my own space here and follow the path around the web that links from one great place to another?

FAIL BIG OR GO HOME Dec 29, 2010

I don’t really “DO” New Year’s Resolution, yanno? I see it as just one more thing to fail at by the third week, oh who am I kidding, the third day in to the New Year.

Oddly enough, my boss told me to embrace failing this year. “Try to fail more this year” he said.

Uh. Ok.

There’s a theory to this and it sounded as eloquent as shit when he told it to me. I just can recollect that right now.

But I get the point: Don’t be afraid to fail. You’re not trying if you’re not failing. You’ll never know the limits if you don’t push them too far.

And other such clichés.

(Like I said, it was eloquent as shit when he told it to me.)

So, I’d like to introduce a few things I’m going to fail at this year in list form because I like lists and you’re too busy to read paragraphs anyway.

1. I will fail at being a marketing director: I will. I understand logic and coding and social media but I do not know marketing. Not yet anyway. But I will BE a marketing director. Or, rather, I *AM* a marketing director.

Remember that if an ass-hat like KevinSmith can succeed at something like film or life, then what the fuck is stopping YOU from doing the same.

2. I will fail at eating well and working out daily: If I don’t plan on failing, I’ll never plan on the day AFTER that fail. The day I decide I can either get back on that healthy horse or get down on myself for falling off of it in the first place.

3. I will fail at paying my bills on time: I’m setting up a five day late policy for our family. We’re allowed five days. FIVE DAYS after the first and the fifteenth. Not twenty, not ten, not six. FIVE. In the mean time, I’ll also plan on autopaying a few of those and have checks as a backup.

4. I will fail at being a perfect mother: Duh. But I’ll remember that my kids love me and I’m still an amazing mom.

5. I will fail at being organized: And that’s ok. It’s not an excuse, it’s a fact. Facts can change. Excuses can’t.

6. I will fail at being a great friend all the time: So it’s OK if someone fails to be mine.

7. I will fail at my freelance job: So I will not over promise and I will learn from my mistakes.

8. I will let my children fail, too: I will watch them explore, I will begin the process of letting the rope out inch by inch and I will hold them when they fall.

9. I will fail at my marriage: There will be days I try too hard or too little or talk too much or not enough or misread body language. So it’s ok if my husband does, too.

10. I will fail at writing/blogging/social media: We can’t all be Dooce or Ree or Jenny. And we shouldn’t try. I will be myself and that will be enough this year.

To be fair, I did draw Laura’s number first. But, as she confessed, she has no shortage of licenses, what with being married to the president and all, so I redrew. I’m thrilled THRILLED to announce a friend of mine in the EE community, Matt Robin won the license.

Way to go Random.ORG.

Thank you to everyone who played along. As a side note, I’ve decided my Super Hero power would be flight. I could fly to Paris for coffee and Rome for lunch and be home in time to grab the kids from school.

I’d be a bird. How did I never think of that until now?

(Which, I guess is more of an animal than a super power, but I’d be the bestest super human bird EVER. I’d build really cool nests made of organic materials. Yaknow, LIKE ALL BIRDS DO. Oh shut up.)

How do we not have a cure for RSV yet? Dec 27, 2010

I was a paranoid, germ-a-phobe literally walking around making people Purrell before they could LOOK at the baby. If I had face masks, I would’ve made you wear them.

No, I’m serious.

Now I’m much more relaxed with germs. “Bah! It’s the floor! Whatever, just wipe off the gummy bear and eat it anyway.”

My kids go to public schooling institutions. There’s not a lot I can do to prevent illness anymore. I’m over the whole “baby in a bubble” thing.

But mothereff I need to revisit that.

We have The RSV. Most notably, *I* have The RSV. My son and I share hours of hacking while my daughter is recovering. It’s estimated that RSV is the most common germ that causes lung and airway infections in infants and young children. Apparently I’m a big baby because dang, yo, this shit sucks.

Whiskey does not even cure it.

So excuse the hacking and snot-dripping while I briefly recount our Christmas.

The toys were played with, the packages were ripped and by 6:04 AM Christmas was over.

Like getting lucky. If you now what I mean. :: Elbow Elbow Nark Nark ::

*Passed out and everything if her new quilt*

Later in the day the gingerbread men were mutilated, the Wii was used for Man Bonding, and mass quantities of Spinach Dip and Chocolate Vodka was consumed. You know, the traditional Chocolate Vodka? Wait, it’s not? Oh, but it should be. OHMAHGAWD.

Now the tree is raw like our nostrils after blowing. But we are thankful and happy to have such friends surrounding us, love abounding around us and a new year to look forward to. Here we go, folks. Twenty-Eleven. May you not suck half as bad. :: hack cough hack ::

Cheers.

I’ve been trying to tell you I love you Dec 21, 2010

I recently posted a photo. The title was, “Such a thin, small window separates us. Literally and Figuratively.” I watched the homeless man wander on the sidewalk as I sipped a latte. I looked for him later to give him a few dollars but he had already left by the time I stepped out to find him.

It is in this spirit that several amazing people have entered our lives recently.

It’s been a rough year. It’s been a tough month. It’s been a really hard few weeks.

We’ve been discussing our life a lot lately. We both feel that the culmination of events of the past six years have brought us to this point. There’s a boiling point we’ve reached, a cliff, the end-of-a-sidewalk, if you will.

It’s a bit like it’s now or never. Change or fail.

The robbery was the last straw for us. At each turn we told each other things were looking up, we were going to be ok, everything was going to be fine. Every time we felt optimistic, life crashed on us. Hard.

The past week has been one of heart break. The finances, the insurance bills, the medical bills, changing locks and accounts and credit cards. But there’s more to being robbed than the actual act itself and the corresponding physical consequences. It brings on an entire line of questioning about humanity. Why do we try to be optimistic? What kind of person steals from others? From children? Before Christmas?

At this precipice we lingered. We teetered on hope, rocked on doubt. Our tiny community we love so much, the people we’ve gathered close both physically and emotionally, the schools we hand picked for our children: Each of these came in to question. Did we really settle in the best home possible? Would these be the type of teens our kids could interact with?

And then the unimaginable happens. You happen.

Sizzle offers us a Wii. “I have one to give away and it needs to go to you and your children.” She glows in an adorable knit hat the day we meet. She hugs the best type of “I’ve known you forever” hug. She smiles as waves away my thank yous.

And she videos the whole thing.** (new! Now Rated Oma Approved: Less Cussing)

This Christmas is one I will never forget. Not because of the robbery or the water heater or the stitches or the condo foreclosing. I will remember it because you loved us. From way out there, beyond the physical, you loved us.

Thank you for restoring humanity for me. For reminding me there is love and joy.